The Last Big Prophecy
by JustAnotherNormalDemigod
Summary: Three demigods have borned. Each one for a different time. Each one has to prove their value, and bravery, facing their destiny. The first, has to end a war, the second, try to prevent the rising of a new enemy, and the third, have to save three worlds, from a same action. And they, together, make the Last Big Prophecy.
1. Prologue First Part

Hello everyone! This is my first story, and I'm doing the best I can. If someone has their opinions, or suggestions, please tell me. You're going to help me a lot. So, Flames allowed! Now, I'm going to explain this: This story has three parts. And this is the First one…

Summary: Three demigods have borned. Each one for a different time. Each one has to prove their value, and bravery, facing their destiny. The first, has to end a war, the second, try to prevent the rising of a new enemy, and the third, have to save three worlds, from a same action. And they, together, make the Last Big Prophesy.

Disclaimer: I'm not Rick Riordan, and I don't own Percy Jackson. Or that's what you think... Mwahaha!

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Hi. My name is Jasmyne Jackson and I'm about to die.

Sorry for the depressing introduction. But it's the truth, and I'm not really good at lying.

Well, how did I get stocked in this… place? Why am I surrounded by a lot of mythical creatures? (Yes, mythical creatures) Why are Cyclopes, hell hounds, dracnaes fighting against me? How are they alive? They… are supposed to be just…. Crazy Greek Myths, right?

You're wrong.

(Wow. It sounds weird telling that to someone).

Gods, Monsters, Titans… Haven't you heard about the Greek Myths? That's what I'm talking about. And there's where I enter: A Demigod.

Half God, half mortal, we don't fit in any of the two worlds. We don't belong to any of them. But, we are able to walk between them, that's why we are so important. We can change the fates of the world.

And, unfortunately, I have changed many fates. I'm supposed to change more, and _they_ don't want that.

Whoever you are; boy, girl, half-blood, god, monster … In this right moment, I don't care, just listen to me: _They_ want to kill me. _They_ say I have done horrible things, and that's my punishment. Wait, did I say "I have done"? It's what _they_ think I'm going to do. (Because is my "destiny")

But I'm not going to do it. I'm not dangerous (Who do you think you're lying? Ha ha!), I'm not going to hurt them! I swear it! But _they_ don't listen to me. _They_ never did.

I explain myself: Even for a demigod, I'm more dangerous. I have weird abilities, however it just get the things more complicated that they already were.

Agh! Why don't I show you? My life, I mean. It's going to be less difficult, right? And you're going to understand it better.

Why isn't this so weird to you? It's… Oh! Haha! I almost forget it! You must know a guy named "Percy Jackson", right? Good. That means you have an idea of a demigod's normal life.

Anyway, let's leave my dad out of here. You're going to hear about him a LOT in this story. Um… The beginning must be… When? Yes! When t_hey_ start messing with my life. (And I can remember it).

Do you think that with "_they_" I mean the monsters?

(Laughs) Mortal: You're so wrong.


	2. Honoring My Name

**This chapter is for SwimmerGurl-HuntressOfArtemis and XxGiRlOnFiRexX, for reviewing. And for S Puff for being my Beta! Thanks! And you, reader, don't be afraid of letting me know your opinions. So, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: My dear readers, I wouldn't tell you I'm Rick Riordan, even if I were. I'm in a secret mission. No one must know about it… Anyway, I don't own the Percy Jackson series!**

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_Riiiinnngggg...!_

I opened my eyes abruptly. The sound of the bell announcing the professor's change, had led me to give a jump in my seat, where I had been taking a little nap, moments before. I put a hand on my chest, waiting for my heart to get back to it's normal rhythm, accompanied by deep and long breaths. I led out a snort at the thought that I could see one of the worst horror movies, and not yet experience the shock that I had because of that stupid piece of rusty tin.

I looked around. My classmates, a group of thirty eight-and-nine-years-old girls and boys, chattering about what they would do in the holidays, or if they could plan a school trip, maybe convincing one of the teachers or even the principal. All, clearly, to avoid having to spend one second less than the necessary in the Legalized Torture Centre for Youth, or more commonly known as _"School"_. But also, there were the others who stood by all, reading or doing thumb war competitions, and (in the noisier part of the class) the boys grabbed a ball, and it seemed to them that the world was a giant soccer field.

In resume, the classic and ordinary classmates specimens, in a normal school of New York.

I began looking for the Professor of History and Geography, quite sure that the last thing I remembered before being dead to the world, was his voice explaining something about the America's discovery and a certain Christopher Columbus somehow being related to that. I fall asleep after hearing about a guy who told this continent with his name, and now I can only pray that is not a really important thing, at least, not to appear on the exams. I frowned, seeing that there was no sign of Professor Rogers. This gesture was almost instantly replaced by one of relief. Luckily I had not won a punishment for sleeping in class. And I wasn't begging for one, precisely.

Two tables away from mine's, I could see a guy with blonde hair, arguing with another red-haired boy. The blonde one was showing him some letter-holograms, while the other flatly denied his offer. I wondered what were they talking about, yet that conversation wasn't in my plans. Taking advantage of the distraction of both guys, I tore an used sheet from my notebook (Who cares about how we get our independence? And if I have to say something about Abraham Lincoln, it is that his fights against vampires were awesome!), and folded it up until turning it into a paper airplane. I set the target, for it to crash into my prank objective, the golden-haired boy. I had to stifle laughter when he turned to me with a deathly look. Yeah, like if he was that terrifying. I bet he can't scare a baby with his "glare". I'm really sorry for the offence, to all the glares in the world, I mean.

Ouch - James muttered, as he sat next to me. Ignoring him, I said "hello" to Josh, with a simple head movement, maybe because I was too lazy for raising my hand. Suddenly, I felt the urge to repress a yawn with one hand. Honestly, I should stop playing in the _PlayPadlet 15_ until two in the morning. Even if the game is getting at it's better part, the next day I wake up ... Well, I'm not wide awake in the whole morning. Don't judge abruptly, dad, and may the gods don't even think about mom, wouldn't never let me stay awake for so long, but I hide the device under my pillow, and when the lights go out, I took it again and continue playing. I guess that I must gave you an explanation of what is a _PlayPadlet Vr.15_, just for some Neanderthals emerged from the caves, is basically like a tablet (you know what it is, right?), flat and thin. The difference is that you have to connect a _pen drive_ along with especial glasses, what you wear, to play in virtual reality and three hundred and sixty degree view. However, some people (_cough_, my dad and some of my uncles, _cough, cough_), never understand and you have to explain them, step by step.

How annoying! Don't you think so?

Hello! - James said, running his hand in front of my face - Is anybody there? Earth to Jas, Jas, please answer - To emphasize this, he grabbed a pencil from my pencil-case and took him up in his mouth's height, pretending it was a microphone, sort of. Microphones aren't so big, they are little, and you can barely notice them near to your mouth. The microphone he's recreating looks like the older versions. I gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. – You called me, at first. It wasn't a common way of calling people… But you clearly want to say me something. Split it! -.

I had a strange dream ... – I almost immediately blushed. It was just a dream, why was I giving it so much attention? But it was so colourful and vivid…

Right now? Or at your house? – He asked. That was one of the things I liked about him, one of the few. He could not be interested in whatever people say to him (even a friend's crazy dream), but he always listens. Or at least he pretends he does. For fun, or maybe his Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder was making it's great appearance, James turned in his seat, without stopping to spinning around. I thought for a moment the answer of his question, trying to remember. For some weird reason, I did not wanted to forget the details of the dream. They seemed… important, somehow.

Now ... In here - I said - It was strange, because they had ... there was a boat. It was huge, and the shape reminded me of a war ship. Like the ones we see in the movies. And it's ... bow? The ship's head was a metal dragon ... - I noticed that the irritating sound of the swivel chair wasn't heard anymore. I turned to my friend, who seemed slightly worried; I could even swear his cheeks were a little pale. His few freckles were easier to see, in this way.

Noticing that he was being watched, his worried signs vanished, as James smiled again, telling me there was nothing to care about: A dragon? Are you serious? Now you tell me that your imaginary ship stowaways fought against an extraordinary creature, and carried swords, right? – He mocked.

But James never got to know, that my "imaginary ship" was flying, or that if they were swords and lances in it. Because in that moment the "eyes", as we call the guys that were next to door, to monitor and warm a teacher's arrival, gave a signal (a cry of an owl, just to make it more dramatic) and the whole classroom began making noises, trying to get to their seats and being in the properly position.

Just in time, because then we could see a hand, rest on the glass door, and rise, leading to the most odious teacher of all, Ms. Levy. That to be honest, insisted on being called "Miss", despite being more wrinkled than a raisin, and be older than this galaxy.

(By the way, how old is that?).

Ms. Levy had her hair (gray, white and horrible. Really, this woman didn't know the meaning of "hairdresser"?) tied with a pink bow (I think it was her fault that I hate that colour) in a bun, and she passed hand for it, as if to order, while with the other hand, she was holding a stack of papers. I had a bad feeling about them, the second I put my eyes in the heap.

Silence! - His shrill voice echoed around the room, along with the sound of her heels to walk on the polished floor tiles seamlessly. I resisted the recommended action of covering the ears with my hands. Did I mention that everything in her is irritating? No? Well, now you know it.

I leaned next to James and whispered for venting myself: Like if that commentary is necessary – We could hear the flapping of a fly's wing, in the classroom. Maybe not like that, but I think you get the point.

I want everyone to take out a sheet of your notebooks, small beasts – While saying this, she was handing out the paper she brought, table by table. I felt like if I just dropped my soul, to the floor, as I understood why - paper pencil, eraser, and pen. Cheating is not allowed. Or using, having even - she took away from a girl with a white t-shirt, a table ornament, a duck-shaped object – any kind of electronic objects -.

Almost helplessly, almost involuntarily, I putted my forehead on the table, letting out a pure frustration moan. An exam, with Ms. Sympathy, and a surprise exam. Perfect. Just perfect.

The teacher came to us, and with a sudden movement of hands, spread our tables. It was no secret that James and I were best friends, and we did everything (sometimes it could be really annoying) together in school. Neither was, in my opinion, that she hated us both.

I know that teachers don't hate anyone, blah blah, they just do what's best for us, blah blah, but I swear she does! From the first time she passed the list on the first day, at the first hour, she hates us. James says that Agnus Levy (what a name), had moved this year, at the same time as me. Last year, the Mathematics' Professor was much more devoted and peaceful. James says that, so quiet he was, he used to fall asleep in class  
(he's one of us!), or that he could pass the whole hour, reading magazines and let them doing whatever they wanted, and that even if a truck passed over him, nothing would make him come to the reality again.

According to James, I had brought the plague with me.

Childish.

The point is, that at the next minute, I had a paper test in front of me, and my fingers, instead of being busy answering questions and calculations, rattled the mahogany table to the rhythm of a music, that had sounded so many times in the radio and I knew it word per word. Except from the name. Completely typical.

Every letter, number... was mixed to my eyes, preventing me from reading them, or just recognize them. Have you ever read in a language you don't understand? You have to look up words in the dictionary, one by one, right? Imagine that, and you will have a vague idea of what it's to have dyslexia, as me. I was pretty sure Ms. Levy did the exam with an ant-sized letters, knowing that I was diagnosed with dyslexia, and wanting to make me fail.

That the ink was blurred also needed to be her fault. Somehow.

After a few minutes, all that he could get, after closing one eye, lean forward and grinning ridiculously, was: "In cage experiments, there are two hundred forty tr1hebs Strabo + is ..." or something. Having to listen to the strumming of the pen, against the paper, did not help concentrating, and ADHD made it's appearance, too.

Enough - said Ms. Levy, after the time finished, for then commanding us to go to hand in her desk, the tests. I gulped, my work was just half done, and I knew that the teacher was never very generous with points, or notes. And if mom sees it, it's going to be my end.

My turn came, and I placed the sheet of hieroglyphics on the pile. I refused to look at the teacher, I was not in the mood to see her satisfaction smile. But obviously, she wouldn't leave it like that, not so easy. I Just got to my seat, and she struck me:

What is this, Miss Jackson? - Asked – Don't tell me this is an "exam" for you, because if it's in that way… I should tell you that you're going to have some remedial classes – I heard the noise of a cell phone, and I knew exactly what were my classmates doing behind those books. At least is better for me, that they don't see my humiliation. I think they don't even care about it.

I refrained from retorting that the thing I less wanted in the world, was spending an hour after school just to see her big ugly nose. James stared at me, and I could even hear his voice saying "Don't answer, she just wants to provoke you. Breathe and sit. "

Hum ... Not even managed to complete half the sheet - chuckled – Can you guess your score, Miss Jackson? - I tensed, and I felt James was pulling me to my seat, before I could say something particularly nasty as answer.

Calm down - he hissed. I removed his hand from my arm.

Don't tell me what to do - I said, still upset with the Professor. James snorted.

If I don't tell you, who else will? -.

I'm mature enough to take care of myself -.

Yeah, right -.

You must always be so bossy? -.

How bad, if it bothers you -.

Shut up -.

We heard a cough, which being so close, made us both jump in our seat. Both, James and I were engrossed in our discussion, and we forgot where we were, or what tone we talked to each other. Obviously, the teacher had come without us, being able to notice. And now her face looked disapprovingly.

If Miss Jackson and Mr. Grace – we made a weird grin - want to put aside, the discussion of the day, perhaps we could continue the class ... You could do a favour. And Mr. Grace, I remind you that your grades aren't so bright to sashay everywhere – The image of James "sashaying" made me almost smile. Until I saw Miss Levy's face.

But we are doing honour to our last names – he stated with a strange gleam in his eyes, James Grace – Don't you understand? Respect out family's tradition - Yeah right, he can challenge the teacher, because she made fun of his grades, and I don't, right? I repressed a cry of "Unfair!".

See, that part of the honour ... It's complicated, because despite being best friends, and we know us from memory, we cannon tolerate each other for long. It's funny sometimes, neither of us wants to lose a debate, but we can not go a day without arguing about something. I suppose we should blame our respective parents. Who said that rivalries are not inherited?

I should have guessed - Professor Levy said coldly. Then she started hissing, while going to her seat, like a snake ... Wait, hiss? Snake?

A little bit frightened about the possibility of seeing a snake, I asked about the source of the sound. The strange thing was that no one else besides me seemed to notice. My classmates were busy, playing silently, but they had to hear something. James raised his eyebrows, and I knew he had listened too. But nobody else. Great, I thought, the two school weirdos have hallucinations. Just great. What's next? The Chamber of Secrets has been opened?

I met your parents - Agnus Levy said, after a silence, and I could swear that his eyes small and reddish, were giving hatred sparks. I blinked in surprise. The woman must be older than I thought, because my father was thirty-nine, I think. Although he looks younger, so it's hard to decide. She turned to me - I'm afraid you're just so lazy and irresponsible as him -.

And I'm identical to my father - James spoke in a bitter tone, and rolled his eyes, that to increase the claim, were of a sparkly electric blue – So, skip the words -.

Drama - I muttered, through clenched teeth. People insisted that it was like that, and my friend was sick of hearing it, though I don't think it's so true. By his expression, you would have thought he was declared the clone of a giant squid.

You should be more like your mother, or your brother - I closed my eyes. That was enough. I had also heard that, more times than I would want to, and I wasn't very happy. Always compared to someone else. Why didn't you look or act more like your mother? Why are not bright as your brother? Why don't you stop doing that? Why do you insist? Why are you so rebellious? Why...?

Because I'm not! – I jumped, to the amazement of my colleagues, or boring. Then everything happened very fast.

One shortcoming of the hundreds, of having ADHD, is that when something happens, it's like having a puzzle, and then a piece falls off and you can't appreciate the picture, confusing and leaving you lost. Your brain, crazier, fails to notice everything happening around you, because you have to see everything, and you get puzzled, meaningless things happen, or too fast, unable to register. So I felt anger, and the next moment all was dark.

What...? – was the word I managed to say, before a girl interrupted me.

Electricity off! - Susie exclaim, as the lights turn back on. It was impossible to have a power outage, even one so brief. We own a generator, and it was from the goods.

Well honey... - Ms. Levy said, next to the door. I blinked. How did she get there so fast? And for her expression I knew what she was thinking. I looked at her with incredulity. She seriously didn't believe that I... How could...?

It's not my fault! - I cried. I looked for someone who believed me, but most of the students, who moments before had been entertained with their phones and doing their things at the internet, were looking at me in an accuser way. And something else, fear. I snorted, how could they believe it? It was completely stupid. I had nine years!

Tell that to the deputy, honey - continued the Professor. I turned my eyes to my best friend, but seeing his position, looking to his shoes, and before he raised his head to look at me, I knew he didn't believe me. His eyes suddenly changed from blue to brown, then to green, and to purple, like a kaleidoscope, but every colour had a guilty look, and he wouldn't help me. I gave one last look of anger, to him and to the teacher, as I left the class.

However, none of those persons appeared in my thoughts as I walked down the aisle. I thought (yes, I think too), in electricity, in the eyes of all and in the official version that I had broken the generator. I got to a conclusion:

They were all crazy.

Actually, it didn't pass too much time to recognize that maybe they weren't.

Less that I would want to.


	3. James defies Coach

**Dear readers! Thanks for having accompanied me with this. Second, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry ... I deseve Tartarus, I know… Sorry, sorry. Now, for you, ghosts, could you let me know your opinions? I would help a lot. As I know the writer notes are extremely boring, I go to the point.**

**Disclaimer: I. Am. Not. The. Owner. Of. The. Percy. Jackson. Series. (Sniff, sniff) Riordan will not give me the copyright. I think he is mad at me…**

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_Pum!_

Across the hall, amplified, was the sound of the door I slammed, when I left the school psychologist's office. But to me, I didn't mind in the least, because the noise that caused it, no one would hear it. I knew beforehand that the classroom doors, even if they were made of glass, were designed for individuals who are in the interior of the buildings, are isolated. They couldn't hear the sounds of the hall, and we, the ones who were outside, couldn't hear what was happening inside. Method pretty effective, I must admit, when some parents took their children to school, and this seemed so quiet and orderly, and it earned their trust immediately. Just to keep the ancient customs and morals and Protocol Label (Protocol learned the bad way: Thanks Mom!), the offices had wooden doors. As the door that Ï just hit.

The visit was a complete waste of time. And the worse punishment ever. The psychologist, Mr. Brians, spoke to me as if I were a girl with mental problems (which basically was, but it is irrelevant to the point, right now), repeating again and again the same word, gasping "cle-ar-ly "and I could not help but compare it with a giant toad. With bulging eyes, half-crazed and chubby cheeks, Mr. Brians talked about the importance of knowing how to control my temper (while I watched my much-more-interesting nails…), respect for superiors (I tried to move my nose, but the only thing I got to do, was weird grins) and ... something more than what I didn't heard, because I was too busy looking through the window, as the leaves on the tree moved with the wind. What bothered me the most was when he took my shoulders, forcing me to see him, and gave me a rag doll, with directions to hit it every time he felt anger (And I couldn't help but thinking: ¡¿WTF?!).

Trying to find the positive side of all this, according to the official version, the generator was operated by a power surge from the other generator, which had not been used in a while. Equivalent to that, I had nothing to do.

Did I looked like an old generator and I had Volts as last name?

While I don't, Earth would be safe and zombies would not come for me.

I opened the trash can, trying to get rid of the wrist. But at the last moment I hesitated, imagining that the doll could serve for some kind of hoax or prank for Halloween.

I examined it carefully, running my hand over one of her eyes. The black button was starting to unstitch, and I stretched the wire nail until it came out, producing a thud as it crashed the ECO bags and plastic waste. If I paint a black dress, tearing it from the side, and maybe if I draw the smile fangs, blood-stained, maybe I could put it on leaving school in the psychologist's office, as a revenge method. I could also ask _Tío_ Leo to make it a robot, so it could move her hands saying hello ...

I snorted, dropping the doll in the trash, remembering why I had it on the first place. Jeez… Controlling my anger? I don't have bad temper! Those teachers are on nuts, or what?! Where did they got that idea?

Maybe Saint Klaus told them. He knows everything… HE IS A STALKER!

I hit myself in the head, still sleepy. I went to the bathroom, where I could wash my face and clear my thought for once. The school's bathroom, to my luck, it wasn't particularly stinky. Normally, the only thing that girls do when they get in, is whisper and fix her hair or makeup looking in the mirror. It's terribly awkward, with the whole crowd in high school. And it was that long mirror, the object I had in front of me, as I opened the metal faucet and rinsed my face. I grabbed a piece of paper, and as I dried my face, I shut the tap.

I looked myself in the mirror. With the paper I had already used, I wiped the water droplets that had jumped up into my hair. Mom had made me a ponytail, before leaving, but now I took off the purple ribbon that held her, letting my hair fall, wavy and dark brown, in the back. I rubbed my eyes one last time, and frowned. I started comparing my reflection with some pictures I had seen in my grandparents' house, realizing that I looked a little like my mother. In facial features, the complexion of the body, but not in the way I am, and that was what everyone wanted, or expected me to be.

And my eyes were green. Sea green, like the father's, and grandfather, revealing the truth of which side of the family I was more alike.

I left the bathroom, at the exact moment in which my classmates went out of class, to go to P.E. in the gym. I slipped between them, ignoring the accusatory looks, like if nothing had happened.

Pst! - Someone hissed. I turned around and saw a girl with a gray bun in her hair. - Is it possible to know why the teacher was crazier than a goat? You never made transformers explode with your mind, right? I mean ... I'd told -.

Thanks, Keyla – I whispered cautiously. Keyla was one of those people who, at least you don't like that half the school knows what rock stepped in your way, you don't talk to. I shrugged - I think she just wanted a reason to kick me out of the class. I was never one of her favorite pupils, and didn't aspire to be. Without ... -.

But that - she cut - was great. Well, - she admitted a little embarrassed - for us. It looked like when you go to see a 3D movie and _boom_! The clown head jumps all over you ... Except for the fact that now there was no creepy clown head. How lucky, you know that ...? - No, no. I knew nothing. My brother rubs it in my face every day.

Oh, too bad! - I accompanied the phrase with a-not-very-enthusiastic arm movement - class ... We should ... Er ... do the race - I tried an apology, hearing the coach telling us the number of rounds to the gym we should do.

But you never do the trot ... - Keyla said confused. "Oh, I would do anything to escape from the jurisdiction of the FBI ..." I thought, taking momentum to trot.

I was about two rounds, when I spotted James talking with The Coach. He was already carrying his schoolbag, and the Coach seemed reluctant to let him out, his megaphone in hand. I frowned, where did he think he was going to? That boy owned me an explanation. I broke ranks, addressing to them.

…Tired ... Perhaps I shouldn't. It worries me, what if I couldn't con… - The Coach made a noise in his throat, and James interrupted himself, turning to me. At that time, he became a little paler.

JACKSON! - Coach Hedge used his megaphone to shout my name, despite the fact I was three feet far of him. Although I already was used to hear his "oh, so beautiful and sweet voice", it still stunned me.

What, Coach? – I answered with the softest voice I could, reminding him that there were still hearing people in this world.

WHY AREN'T YOU ALREADY SWEATING THEre!? - His voice trailed off as James turned off the volume's button. The Coach turned his head toward him. The boy looked at him innocently, pulling off his hand from the megaphone. The trainer looked him severely, while putting the instrument under his arm.

GRACE! – he didn't need the megaphone, after all.

I'm sorry! – He shouted - You are too high, I can't listen to you down here! - It was a kind of joke, because despite being somewhat advanced in years, Coach wasn't very high. He always wore his baseball hat and bat, and sometimes even threatened us with it, which earned him a couple of suspensions in school for being too "Hedge", as I would define him.

Why are you so lazy, Grace?! You don't like my class, and you need it more than most – He crossed his arms. Gra- I mean, James made a grin that could be interpreted as guilty, but he recovered himself quickly.

Because I'm tired, my legs hurt and yesterday the sun came out! – He shook his head. I think he was one of the few students who dared to defy the Coach that crudely. And I think that he was the one who most punishment received. Anyway, I knew that James saw Coach Hedge as his favorite teacher ... If you can consider_ that_ a "Teacher".

It seems you didn't understand my question ... – He pulled back his megaphone. Looked like he needed his authority's symbol to announce it - WHY ARE YOU SO LAZY, GRACE?! - James watched him annoyed, and took the megaphone of his hands.

BECAUSE I WANT! – The coach demanded him to return the device, and after a couple of scuffles, he recovered it. He may be short, but obviously the years of instructor had made on him.

James Remus Grace McLean...! - Hedge said, slightly irritated. Apparently, he had forgotten about me. James opened his eyes, making a fake surprise grin and muttered sarcastically:

You know my name ... Oh, that I feel really flattered ... -.

You are suspended ... of my class - James revered him mockingly. Then he frowned and said:

At least. Really, Professor, you worked so hard to say those words? - Before leaving, he looked toward the ceiling and shouted – Thanks Gods! -.

Coach Hedge turned his eyes to me. I tried to recreate the same innocent look from my cousin, but I failed miserably. Of course, mom always taught me to have "Replacement Strategy", and right now, I needed it.

Oh! – I exclaimed, stumbling - I think I will faint ... - I threw myself to the ground with a dramatic fall. I stick my tongue out to winn more realism.

MAKE THE STRETCH, JACKSON! – Sounded the megaphone.

Can't hear you, Coach. I fainted. I have to go to the nursery. What were James and you talking about? – I couldn't held my curiosity for more. I sat correctly, but Coach grabbed my shoulders and frowning replied:

Things that you can't know yet, cupcake. Now, do five laps or I will have to notify your parents -.


	4. Truth or Dare?

YOU! - I cried silently, knowing the risks that involved speaking loud in there. James winced. The wince he made was similar to the one I gave when I had abruptly waked at the end of the history class. But he wasn't sleeping now. Probably, I just had surprised him a little bit, that is what he needs. Because, as everyone should know, you always have to be in… PERMANENT ALERT!

Now, talking about things you should know, I want you to make an example of the different types of gasps.

There is the surprised gasp: Like when somebody yells at you randomly, and you are trying to sleep. You have to hate those.

Then, comes the happy gasp that happens when somebody you didn't expect to come to your birthday party, comes and brings you a big present… Act that leads to the surprised gasp again, when you open the present and the only thing you got now, is a piece of cake threw to your face.

And after that comes the shock gasp, which would be… Ahh!

Like when I told him the thriller story about the "Happy Potato".

The poor boy, hasn't still recovered from the trauma in his childhood.

Returning to reality, we were in the backyard's corner of the school. The space wasn't really big, but it was very nice. Specially for staying, maybe doing homework… Ew, did I actually said that? There is no place in this world where doing homework gets to be "nice".

The walls and ceiling were made of a carefully treated glass, and every time the sunlight came through them, the light broke down into different colours, creating the pretty illusion that, in there, we had a permanent rainbow.

But if I had to talk about a dominant colour, it would be the green. An intense green. Wherever you looked at, the plants were making they appearance. Some vines, climbing the silvery holders to which they were assigned. Other, less docile, scattered across the floor, their flowers getting dirty with the Earth's brown. The floor, had a trail of white stones and gray, circle-shaped rocks. In the middle of the room, like splitting it in two were the trees, not very high, but wider than anything else. To the sides, holding the most beautiful flowers, were the pots. They showed the only sign that someone had ever been in this place, and it was they were made of clay, hand-modeled crudely painted in tempera.

The result was childish, but generated a small feeling of sweetness.

As you may have guessed, or not, when I say "backyard's corner" I mean the school greenhouse.

Okay, how this place would have survived in a school full of kids running from here to there? The conservatory was beautiful, perhaps the only thing I really like about this school, but ...

Oh, It's such a funny story! You see, er ... It's forbidden for students.

Actually, it isn't like the other children see the attraction to this place. The polarized glass greenhouse is out, which means you can not see what it is. Most of them probably think is an old house or a part from the school that isn't used. The High School Students, know it, and are even allowed to get in, but the little ones no. If a little one asks for getting in, they would reply: Banned! You don't want punishment, right?

And what are we doing here? Well, you can't think that something as silly as a suspension would stop us. Like if we hadn't brake rules before ...

Can you move a little? - I asked James. He sat correctly, and I took my place next to him.

How'd you find me? - There was a little curious tone in his voice. I made a philosopher grin.

Hmm ... Let me think ... Maybe this is not the place where you come whenever you get bored or you're kicked out of a class? - I replied sarcastically. He shrugged.

Maybe. But ... – he smiled defiantly – I will not let you win so easily, Jackson. This is war, and everything is allowed in it. - I rolled my eyes.

You really think you can beat me, Huh? Don't you know? This is my game, Grace. Nobody beats me in my game. -.

At how much goes the count? – I made some quick calculations.

Scoreboard goes this way, Jasmine: 7 vs. James: 6 ... Now, ff we have the expulsions of today, it would go: Jasmine: 8 vs James: 7 -.

Yes, but remember that day when I _accidentally_ threw that ball ... - His voice trailed off as her cheeks reddened. But it was too late, because that memory had assailed my mind.

You see. At about mid year, we went on a field trip to an antiques museum. From the medieval age, and all that stuff. It was a history tour, and while the Professor spoke, James took the tennis ball with which he had been playing all the way on the bus.

At that point, everything was perfect, but Oliver, our odious classmate who enjoys teasing others, scoffed at James, saying he would _never_ have the guts to face an army, as the Professor explained that the Crusaders had to fight to defend Egypt...? Well, a city.

An offense nonsense, but he continued teasing James, until he didn't resisted it and ended up throwing the tennis ball in Oliver's face. The bad thing is that he got wrong, and his ball crashed into an armoured knight on display.

There are chapters in your life you want to forget, aren't it? - I told him, tilting my head. He sighed.

What if I said no? – I Raised an eyebrow - Although... - He hesitated a little – I'm afraid I would never be able to forget that. If since I got home, I was locked in my room. "Until you calm down, and tell us the 'why' of your irresponsible behaviour" – He imitated his mother's voice, aunt Piper. Then, he made under tones, more serious - "I think we've talked about this before, Remus. You need to be more disciplined, so I'll send this year to Camp Jupiter ... "- His eyes changed from blue to dark brown -" No, dad! You cannot change me into something which I'm not! Why can't you understand? – There was a little of disappoint in his voice, that make me guess, that he actually felt hurt about that.

I tried to imagine the conversation between, on the one hand, the neat and serious Uncle Jason, his briefcase, his perfectly pressed shirt, his hair and beard shaved and impeccably cut, while on the other hand, probably sulking in the corner of his room, with dirty clothes from getting everywhere or playing games, and even bouncing his tennis ball, James.

However, I couldn't help feeling somewhat uncomfortable with my parents.

My cousin goes to a summer camp each year for three years, that I can remember remember. I never knew exactly what was his beloved camp, or what did he do in there, I just know that I can't come to disturb him, the first week of his return, or he would answer something like: "Moving? That means exercise, right? I'm dead. It hurts every single fiber of my little body. Come back in a week, and if I can, I will run to the door, I will turn the doorknob, I will say hi with the minimal physical effort required and then I will go to sleep. Okay?"

Maybe Coach is right when he forces him to do the double of exercise. He puts himself behind him, screaming with his megaphone the amount of sit-ups... Let's hope he leaves the pillow, at last. A love affair of so many years is difficult to cut.

I once asked my parents to go with him.

Let's say it didn't turn very well.

I had chosen the moment which Dad was making breakfast. Mom was reading some plans in her laptop, while Nico was playing with some old playing cards that Aunt Hazel had given to him. At mentioning my request, my brother looked at me surprised, but frowning, in that gesture that looked so much like mom. She looked at me nervously and, could that be an expression of anger...? She turned to my father. Dad looked at me sadly, and leaning against the wall, he put his blue coffee cup (long story) on the table. He motioned me to come, and Nico and mom left the room. She sighed and said it was the decision of my father, and that she could not interfere.

Of course, in language "Annabeth", that could only meant one thing, and it was: "Percy wanted it this way. He did not listen to my advice and I won't take responsibility of the consequences of his actions... Oh, Percy, you're a Seaweed Brain..."

Dad whispered "You're not going to that camp." Why? I wanted to know, they never forbade me things, and if it was for a good reason, they always made sure I did understand correctly that reason. "You're too young... I don't want you to go. I know you grow... But I'll keep you by my side until it gets no longer possible. Is selfish, and probably not good, but I…"

His words made me feel sad, and I hugged Dad, promising him I would never ask again. Yet here I was, still feeling jealous and wondering why James could, and I couldn't. Wasn't him younger than me?

…Or maybe if Terminus haven't got so angry, just because I happened to mention that everyone thinks that his rules were so dumb, that when they entered to a contest of silly rules, he got rejected, argumenting that they wouldn't accept professionals in the field. Seriously, if I really wanted... – He snorted - I had to stay all the afternoon cutting the grass with _scissors_. According to him, everything had to be perfectly aligned. And then, forced me to rake the soil and remove trash! - I laughed at his look "can you-believe-it"?

Did he really force you? - I smiled, and James nodded. He moved his neck, as if it pained him for crawling on the ground by measuring the grass. - Who is _Terminus_?

Our boring and without-humour-sensed Security Guard – He rolled his eyes - and you haven't known the two camp leaders... Those guys are great at controlling your life… -.

A silence followed upon. I leaned back on the bench, closing my eyes. Coach had us play a volleyball game, from which I couldn't escape the balls that ended being threw at me. Besides, sleeping on a table, doesn't feel exactly like sleeping on a feather bed imported from Switzerland.

Or maybe it does. Never tried it.

I heard the sound of falling water. Which was rather strange, since a few minutes ago, the sky was cloudless. Then, I heard footsteps... Steps?!

I opened my eyes and looked alarmed to the sound source. Unluckily, there was the Woman in charge of maintenance, watering the plants with an old plastic watering.

The Employee ... Oh, great. We would be discovered.

I honestly didn't think someone could come to check the greenhouse, I mean, didn't they have automated sprinklers installed? Who doesn't have a sprinkler installed automated these days?!

Although... On second thought, it would be pretty suspicious if we were completely wet...

The plastic watering, generated two situations: The positive one was that it would take longer to reach us, as we were on the far side of the entrance, and a negative, that it was in the driveway. And I couldn't find a way out, without being seen.

Hey! - James whispered behind me, as I stood silently. He smiled carefree, as if he had everything under control. - Wanna play a game? -.

I snorted: Do you think this is a good time to play games? - He nodded, leaning to search his backpack, to place it correctly on his back.

It's fun. It's called Truth or Dare -.

I blinked confused. Of all the games, he picks that one?

We moved slowly, with the trees in the middle of the greenhouse covering us. We didn't want to be seen. Suddenly, that little spark of indifference to punishment, wasn't so indifferent, and the possibility of being expelled by a silly rule (thus, I have never reached that point), stood at me menacingly.

"As a giant," I compared. "As the giant that appeared in my dream. The one that kept… "But the memories were getting fuzzy again and I really hated it, because it looked so important…

Anyway, I made the trivial choice: Dare -.

I stepped on a fallen leaf, making it sound. I closed my, as if in this way I could reduce the small noise caused. James held his breath, and I gently moved my left foot where the leaves hadn't fell. However, the floor at that point, was more slippery, since it had been watered. We both turn the head to the right, checking if we have been discovered, but the woman had not heard it.

I dare you to get out of this place… Alive -.

Ho ho! Sure, after that line, one hyper person like me expects that the awesome protagonist makes a dramatic walk towards the camera, putting or taking off his/her dark sunglasses, while behind him/her, something explodes in flames. Of course, that depends on the amount of impact you want to generate. If you want to be impressive, a house catches fire, or a helicopter explodes and falls (in these cases, may have the effect slow motion). For the simplest, always recommended a sport car.

Ah! And we can't forget the background music. Or that the protagonist takes a gun bigger than his body.

So that's how, my friends, you make an action movie.

CUT!

We continue moving behind the plants. We were so close… Near the exit, but also to the person who could be the reason my parents would impose me a permanent punishment until I get to eighteen.

Or seventeen, if Errol doesn't fails at bringing my Hogwarts letter.

I guess if I wanted to leave, what we had to do was make sure the woman was distracted enough watering the plants, to get through the door. It seemed so easy…

Ouch! - James gasped. And I turned to him, alarmed. He had slipped on the wet floor, producing a wet sound.

A wet sound? Can you feel the water when you hear? Well, I can't describe it in other way, so sorry if I mix the senses, but I'm quite sure that "wet" described that sound perfectly.

I watched that in horror, it was impossible that the woman hasn't heard that sound. I ducked instinctively and got ready to run, but the boy, who was half sitting on the floor with the backpack only sustained by one shoulder, surrounded by mud, did the strangest thing I had expected him to do. He began to laugh.

He lay on the ground like if it was the most normal thing in the world, and continued laughing. Desperate, and terribly confused, I took his hand, pulling him up.

Come! Quickly… I don't know why she hadn't heard us, but we gotta go! - I tried to get him up, but my efforts were in vain. James was infatuated with being on the ground, and that began to slightly irritate me.

Sorry, but I think I had missed the joke. Would you do the favour of repeating it for me? -.

She is Wendy – He said, referring to the woman. - Wendy is deaf, and is proud of it. She says she doesn't need transplants or replacement ears. She had born this way, and using them would mean she doesn't accept herself. She is not an invalid by his deafness, is only another thing that makes her different - He smiled.

But unfortunately, not thousand of his smiles could reduce the feeling of irritation and annoyance that filled me in that moment.

What you are trying to say me - I made a little pause, controlling myself - is that you knew that she couldn't hear, from the beggining and you didn't even bother to warn me!? -.

He got up from the ground, carefully for not falling. Meanwhile, I was kept glaring at him hardly.

Basically. – He admitted - but if I did, where would be the funny side? -.

What "Funny side"? Despairing for nothing?

He… Little, skinny boy, who has not much future life if he keeps intruding on my way… Useless, annoying, small flea floor.

I would surely thought of more definitions, but James stood up, took my arm and we walked the last stretch we needed to leave. He looked at Wendy, checking she couldn't see us, and crossed the glass door.

We surrounded the greenhouse, for no founding any child could surprise us. Or any teacher, which was worse. Apparently, every course had finished classes, and in the backyard park where playing the smaller, school bags strewn across the floor, while their children were mounted on slides and chasing each other. School bags… Wait.

Turning to give one last look at James, I examined him and informed: You have your nose dirty -.

I let go of the hand of my cousin, who just rolled his eyes at the gesture, that I would have admitted that was a little bit rude, if I wasn't because I was still too angry. Well, the word wouldn't be angry, rather… It was like that feeling you get when you're a sore loser, and you don't want to admit it.

I grabbed my backpack, which I had left in one of the Monster's tree branches, like is baptized by the students, or anyone who sees it, for its many branches and the giant space that uses. Under the tree, were the bigger guys, the ones from High School. I guess they liked it because it gives them plenty of shade, and you will see everyone talking, or listening to music. Some even read books.

I got frozen.

A small idea had echoed in my mind. It was unusual, but I had to check it. Just had to. It emerged, as if from nowhere, and maybe I would have been something uncomfortable to check, except for the fact that I already had the perfect excuse.

"Student Number 534. Jackson, Jasmine. Parents outside. Please report."- My school's shield, reported. I turned it off by pressing the button on the side. Properly setting my backpack, I walked into the hallway. At the same time as I was doing that, a boy with slightly lighter hair than mine, and who was almost doubling me in age, met me.

How was your day? – He asked.

Restless. Strange. Cool. – I answered. Nico smiled and ran a hand through his tie, distracted – And what about you? What three words would you use to describe your day? -.

Bored. Normal. Ordinary. -.

Oh, I forgot! – I Commented at his lack of enthusiasm - Nothing surprises you. Because you're fourteen, and you already lived your life, right? - He shrugged.

Take it the way you want. But nothing extraordinary happened today -.

Is school, what do you expect to happen? That a Jedi appears in the middle of the class, fighting against an army of clones? Or that from one second to another, all High School students would stand in the cafeteria tables, dancing and singing, perhaps? – I replied sarcastically.

Honestly no. That'd be really creepy. – He responded, but he seemed a bit more happily.

We continued walking until we reached where our parents were, waiting in the street of the school, along with all the other families.

Dad, with his sparkling green eyes, leaned back in the car, waving at us, and Mom with her wavy hair, that I had inherited, in a ponytail, had as if it was a hair accessory, because of all the time I had already seen her use it, a pencil. That however, fitted her, since under the arm she had a stack of papers. Probably designs.

I'm pretty lucky. Many parents can't come together to their children's school and take them home, but I guess that's the advantage if your dad is a marine biologist, whose job is to travel sometimes, and study some graphics and different populations of sea creatures, at home. And Mom is a well-known architect, people asked her to design important buildings to restore monuments of historical value, and all that cool stuff. But you will never see her without her computer, not even for all the Scooby Cookies of the world.

I gave each of them a hug. Nico shouldn't do the same, according to him; he was too "big" and "mature" for public hugs. But he just did it. I guess I will never understand the adolescent guys like him. They contradict their selves so many times...

I turned and ran to hug another person by behind, who just got out of her car. I heard a gasp, and felt a hand going through my shoulder. I looked up to see a woman, the same age as my parents, beautiful, with chocolate brown long hair and Native American factions.

Hello – I said. Aunt Piper smiled at me.

What's the reason of all this love, little? Who do you want me to punish now? - I laughed. Piper looked at my parents – She's not so little anymore, ehh? Annabeth, Percy… - She combed my hair with one hand - I hope you are proud of your daughter. -.

We are. Although we are used to receive some notes for her behaviour - Mom looked at me, and I felt that the homecoming would not be very nice for me. Mom gave the world best sermons.

Hum… I begin to think that putting my son and her into the same school was a bad idea - Piper pointed, and I let go of her, as she watched Danielle, Selina and her younger brother came to us, for going with their mother.

Not a bad idea. Not if we plan to blow up the school in a couple of years. - Dad joked. Mom rolled her eyes, and I'm afraid that dad's joke, won't be just that in the future. James waved at them both and passing next to him, I asked:

Truth or Dare? - Now it was his turn to blink in confusion. –

We didn't finish -.

Truth, I guess. You are a little bit dangerous in Dare -.

Perfect, I thought, just what I needed. I chose the question that had been flying around my head, even if it was stupid and without a good explanation. But there was something that told me it was correct.

_You_ exploded that generator, right? -.

James hesitated, and a half-sided smile, was formed in the corner of his mouth:

You have no proof -.

Questions and more questions arose. One after the other. But I highly doubted any of them would be answered, no matter how much I could insist on them. I also had the slightest suspicion and a feeling (accompanied by a cold shiver) that this _something_ he was hiding was related to what he had been saying to Coach Hedge. That this _secret_ was related to the fact that Mom and Dad hide me things. Things of their past, which I barely know something. And that, was wrapped around something big, much bigger than I could imagine, or think.

I ran a hand through my hair, getting dizzy with all the thoughts. I leaned back in the car seat. Looking at my left, was my brother, talking to my parents about what happened at school today, and I heard them laughing. Someone had said something funny, but their voices reached me away, like from the other side of a tunnel. I wasn't paying them attention.

I frowned. Why did they hide secrets to me? What was so important, or _dangerous_ that they wanted to keep far away from me? They didn't trust me?

I looked though the window, to the houses we were leaving behind. We stopped, the traffic lights colour red. Next to it, a man covered in dark clothes was looking at all the cars that passed in the street. Like searching for someone he wanted.

But then, his eyes looked at me.

Supposedly, I shouldn't know that. His clothes were hiding his face from me, and I shouldn't see them. But I could feel that sky blue eyes on me. And he knew I could see him, because he moved his mouth forming a sentence.

"It's _you_".

A blink. A second. And he was gone, like if nothing had happened. Except for the fact that he left me wondering if I was getting, slowly or not so, on nuts. Going crazy.

Are you okay? Nico, what's wrong with your sister? - Dad practically ordered. I positioned myself correctly in my seat, shaking his head.

I think she just needs to eat sugar, dad. - Nico reported. I frowned, remembering my dream… The details became more vivid at the time. I had to do something with it. The own dream seemed to chase me.

Nico - I muttered - Nicholas Jackson. Nico di Angelo. Of the Angels. The angel's breath - I continued saying what I had heard. - Twins snuff out the angel's breath. - Someone was trapped in that cage. Someone was trying to break the cage, too - One who holds the key to endless death. - laughter bounced off my mind. My head hurt so much. – The hero and the traitor must define their fates… - I let out a groan of pain, unable to stand it any longer. I put both hands on his head warm. - Κάντε το σταματήσει -.

I looked up, trying to stay calm. My brother looked confused and for the first time in my life, I saw him scared, but Mom and Dad's reaction was unexpected. They were completely pale. As if all the colour had just faded from their cheeks. We had stopped the car, this time without any traffic lights who indicated it, and the silence became so thick as a toxic gas.

Dad spoke hoarsely, and with a little tone of something I never thought I would use with me: fear.

Jas ... How do you know that? And what was the last thing you said? - I opened my mouth to answer but couldn't. How did I know? I guess I couldn't answer that question because I didn't really. They were like whispers in my ear. Part of a dream. Part of an important dream, I shouldn't had dreamed. I shouldn't have said that out loud. Now the words hung in the air, and it didn't even seem mine. It didn't make any sense, but should it?

I ... – I felt breathless and everything went black.

* * *

**Well, er ... This was chapter three. I hope you now have clearer history of the main characters, and some other information to help them settle in our beloved old characters. That would be great, as is the way they behave and how they are what will define how the course of history. What are your decisions and the paths they choose to take. I consider it very important, at least.**

**Κάντε το σταματήσει = Make it stop, in Greek.**

**This chapter is for Hazel Levesque! For being the most awesome demigod ever ! And thanks for your support, ghosts!**

**Any questions, you know what to do.**

**- JustAnotherNormalDemigod**


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